The Manor
by Fanciey Crietures
Summary: Fading ivory walls loomed over their town from atop the hill, five young souls entering its creaking doors. Imperfection, acceptance, admiration, fear and attachment. Each escaping from something, each finding something new. Stuck in between reality and fantasy, can they get back to where they belong before history repeats itself?


**A/N i guess**

 **hi.**

 **i know this is stupid. i know this is shit. i am aware of that. i'm only posting this because its summer, it'll finally give me closure and i have no shame whatsoever.**

 **hopefully, saying that has deterred a lot of you and annoyed you as well.**

 **if you're still reading this here's a disclaimer as well, i dont own Hetalia.**

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 **Chapter 1:  
** **A Gamble**

 _Imperfection is intolerable._

The moon and stars were covered with dark and gloomy clouds. The wind howled and her quiet footsteps echoed. She dodged the wood and branches that were reaching out to her from the trees that grew far too old and far too large. She illuminated her walkway as best as she could with her flashlight. The stone pathway was concealed with moss and tall grass aggravated her legs. Her feet ached inside her shoes, begging for rest.

She was only a few steps away from the towering ivory walls of the building. The crickets began chirping louder, and the owls started hooting, the sounds destructing the silence that was burning her ears, as though signaling she should turn back.

She looked behind her and she could foresee the whole town from the small hill. Past all the trees, streetlights and store signs made the town shimmer and shine like the sky, had it been freed from dirty grey cotton.

The air was fresh but the atmosphere was stuffy and thick.

Soon, she stood in front of the doorway, the maroon paint was fading and peeling off. She opened the door and it creaked violently as she pushed it just enough to let her petite frame set foot in the old and abandoned home. As she shoved the door, wind blew against her back, pushing her inside.

She entered the ancient mansion and coughed up a bit of the dust that flew unto her face. She tried as discreetly as she could to close the door. She raised her lavender scarf to her nose and mouth and she pushed a bit of her golden locks behind her ear.

She brought light upon all the dusty knick knacks the covered the shelves and windows of the run-down structure. Above her was a high ceiling that was adorned with an elegant and shimmering chandelier. The grandiose cream and bistre ceiling was at least 5 meters high. She could see the classy window panes that gave the whole thing a mysterious yet hypnotizing atmosphere.

 _"If the moon was out, it would've been impressive, or is terrifying a better word?"_

She stood under the tall arc of the grand entrance and she trailed her hands across the dust and dirt that glazed the beautiful and majestic furniture. It all looked expensive, outdated but stunning.

She dusted one end of a maroon couch and sat on it. She took a shaky breath of the musky cold air and took the feeling and aura of the mansion in.

 _Tap. Tap… Tap. Tap…_

The sudden noise jolted her away from admiring an old coffee table. She ignored the shiver that went down her spine as she heard soft steps coming from the hallway, instead, she focused on controlling her shaking hand and stopping herself from dashing towards the door. She closed her eyes and released a long breath.

She relaxed and calmed herself. Maybe the other intruder was just a young daredevil, a curious child or an old homeless person.

" _You did this to yourself. Don't go against what you agreed on doing,"_

She could handle this.

She raised her flashlight towards the hallway's opening and she walked to it. The footsteps ceased but she continued to move forward. She paved her way through all the dust and muck around her. Her breathing was erratic and uneven, wind from a broken and old pipe.

She was getting closer to the hallway and she could hear light shuffling, the footsteps came back

She illuminated the arch that bordered the entrance hall. She could almost see into the hallway. She was getting closer and closer to it, the footsteps were getting louder and louder. Her heart dropped.

"Louise?"

He had light brown hair, soft green eyes, and soft, fluffy curls.

It was just Charlie.

"I didn't expect to see you here,"

His brows were furrowed, his eyes terrified, his words shaky.

She refused the urge to break out in a grin.

"I could say the same about you,"

His nervous chuckling brought her on edge. He didn't want to be here either.

"What brings you to a place like this? I know you like walks and stuff, but this is weird, even for you,"

His eyes were downcast. He stared at the floor as if it were a glorious and shinning gem among the rocks and stones that was everything else around him. He refused to look at her.

"What about _you_? Did they guys from the Southside threaten you _again_?"

He laughed awkwardly, she dodged the question. He used to laugh so animatedly, so joyfully when they were younger. She could remember him playing and running around with his old friend. Climbing trees, playing tag, hide and seek, pretending they were superheroes. He used to be so happy, but since Betty moved back to Australia, his smiles were more forced, his shoulders more stiff. His laugh stopped being a laugh.

"Yeah, I need my phone back. They said I could have it if I took a picture of myself in the attic. Mummy wouldn't like it if I lost my phone, you know?"

They stood there. Discomfort enveloping their very existence. The silence was thick, unbearable, _menacing._

"What are you going to use? You don't have your phone with you,"

He took out an old Polaroid camera from his backpack and swiftly returned it. The sound of the zipper closing banged against their ears as it broke the glass of stillness around them.

A loud bang against the door forced them out of their reverie and their heads turned in a snap. Something was out there. Rustling. Shuffling. Stumbling. Awkward grumbles. Muffled words. Their bodies shook. Feet glued to the floor. The door creaked open.

A young man with hair as unkempt as the mansion. He problematically held a digital camera in his hands. His things—papers and pens—were oozing out from his messenger bag.

Charlie's legs practically buckled under the relief. Their shoulders relaxed and their fists unclenched.

For a split second, the stranger looked shocked, like a man caught in the act. But immediately after, he smiled, his grin contrasting with the darkness of night.

"Guess I have company,"

His laugh perked up the room. Just like his smile, he lit up the atmosphere and his eyes twinkled like the stars.

"Oh! And hello, Charlie! Wait, I'm not interrupting anything, am I? I mean, you finally get a chance to get good fuck and I'm barging in,"

 _"Incredibly vulgar I see. Charlie, what kind of people are you hanging out with,"_

His cheeks flushed a light rosy glow for a moment. His hands found their way to cover his mouth.

Then, Charlie laughed. The oddity of the whole ordeal brightened him. The man's casual nature in what seemed to be a place of horror and suspense perplexed him.

It took him a few seconds to recover. Both were bewildered he had it in him to cachinnate as much as he did.

"I wouldn't even think of it,"

Amusingly enough, the man looked disappointed. He had a small pout gracing his features and his eyebrows furrowed. But his pout didn't last long and he broke out in a fit of laughter.

"So," he began. He looked at her with comedic interest. "I, milady, am Vali Ionescu,"

He took his blood red beanie off and bowed.

"What might _your_ name be?"

She couldn't catch herself in time before a smile started forming.

"Louise Bonnet, milord,"

She couldn't help but curtsey.

It suddenly felt like her loss became a victory.

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 **another A/N i guess**

 **if you've actually finished chapter one then please tell me all my mistakes and errors because that'll really help me, i guess. doubt it, but i hope you enjoyed.**


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